


The Future Our Canvas

by Engineer104



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Married Life, Portraits, Post-Canon, route doesn't matter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:53:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23308684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineer104/pseuds/Engineer104
Summary: Dorothea wasn’t sure why Ferdinand insisted on the three of them sitting for this portrait, especially with Lucy still so young, but after he explained something or other about wanting to “preserve House Aegir in a single pristine moment for their descendants to look up to”, she’d agreed.She regretted it now.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Dorothea Arnault
Comments: 8
Kudos: 57





	The Future Our Canvas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roxyryoko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxyryoko/gifts).



> Doing this for a drabble challenge among friends! This is for Roxy, whose prompt was "a work of art". Wrote a bit of post-war married with a little girl ferdithea because i'm turning downright domestic with my taste in fic writing.
> 
> Please enjoy!

Lucy squirmed in Dorothea’s lap, as restless as her mother. “Mama,” she complained, straining her arms in an effort to escape.

Dorothea understood how she felt. She wasn’t sure why Ferdinand insisted on the three of them sitting for this portrait, especially with Lucy still so young, but after he explained something or other about wanting to “preserve House Aegir in a single pristine moment for their descendants to look up to”, she’d agreed.

She regretted it now with a lap full of restless toddler and her own discomfort sitting upright in a hard, straight-backed chair (not to mention a lingering queasiness). Hair she so carefully styled that morning clung to her neck, the collar of her dress too high and stifling, and the painter had denied her request they open a window for fear it would “ruin” the paint as it dried on the canvas.

Ferdinand’s hand squeezed her shoulder as if he could sense her discomfort. He stood behind them and a little to the side, dressed in an impeccable maroon doublet with gleaming gold buttons. When she asked why he’d forgone armor - as all his forebears in _their_ portraits wore - he’d scooped a giggling Lucy into his arms and declared that their family portrait would herald a time of peace rather than war.

Dorothea smiled at the time, utterly charmed by his logic (though she’d rather deny it), and maybe that was why she found herself in this situation now.

She sighed and pushed her thick hair away from her neck, trying to catch a nonexistent breeze against her skin. Maybe one of these days she would do like Bern and chop it all off…

_“Your hair, how it flows, it is softer than velvet.” Ferdie brushes her hair away from her shoulder and leans down to graze his lips against the newly exposed skin._

_Dorothea shivers but tilts her head back; she reaches behind the back of his head and runs her fingers through his hair, so much smoother and better kept than during the war. “If mine is velvet, Ferdie, then yours is silk.”_

She dismissed that idea. Maybe she should just wear it tied up more often, especially in these warm summer months.

Lucy’s high-pitched whine tore her from her thoughts and back to the present; her short little arms and legs flailed. “Down!” she demanded, as imperious as her father could be.

Dorothea decided then she would put her foot down.

“I think we should take a break,” she called to the painter.

The man poked his head out from behind the canvas. “Y-Your Grace?” He looked to Ferdie for approval, or permission, or both.

The possibility of either one filled Dorothea with irritation. Was her word - was a clearly unhappy child - not good enough?

“Yes, let’s take a break,” Ferdinand, to her relief, agreed. He smoothed down Lucy’s plaits, but she darted away from his touch and Dorothea as soon as she loosened her hold on her.

Lucy immediately dived for the small chest of toys they kept in the family parlor. She dug through its contents, as happy as a horse let off its reins.

Dorothea stood with a relieved sigh and wasted no time unlatching and pushing open the window. She half-hung out, staring down into the gardens and smiling at the lick of a cool breeze caressing her cheek. For all she complained about such “noble” things as sitting for stuffy portraits that would hang for generations (if Ferdie had his way), she never grew tired of the view below.

She jumped when a hand rested against her back, but only Ferdinand stood behind her when she spun around. “You owe me a massage after this, Ferdie,” she complained. She stretched her arms behind her, wincing at the stiffness in her spine.

“I confess I should have thought more about Lucy when I commissioned the painting,” Ferdinand admitted with a rueful smile. He looked over his shoulder, towards where Lucy played with a carved toy horse (she already loved them as much as her father did). “I was just so excited to hang one in the hall.”

“I know,” Dorothea conceded. A smile pushed at her lips - how easily he could do that now when once she disdained his efforts! - and she wrapped her fingers around his. “But…since you wanted a family portrait”—her stomach flutters with nerves, though not as bad as last time—”it might’ve been a good idea to wait a little longer for when we have a bigger family.”

“A bigger…family?” He frowned. “I do not understand.”

“Oh, Ferdie, you really can be obtuse sometimes.” She rested his hand on her abdomen right above her belly button. When his eyes widened with dawning understanding, she leaned forward and whispered, “I think Lucy will have a little sister or brother to play with soon too.”

**Author's Note:**

> A drop of water in a rare pair tag...
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
